Happy Birthday, Mr Taylor
by The Atomic Cafe
Summary: Everyone, he told her, stressing the word, has been coming in here, telling me things and leaving with a 'happy birthday, Mac'. All I want to do is finish writing this.


**Happy Birthday, Mr. Taylor**

**By Dimgwrthien**

_Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: NY or affiliates._

_Edith C. Warner - 31 - manager at Penelope on 30th - sister in Connecticut. Dirt on clothes - from where? (Outside house - fertilizer. Previously there?) Trace under fingernails - what? Get testing finished. Scratches on face - possible trace? Dark substance on shoes - what? Get testing finished. _

_FROM M.E.: chipped tooth - no dental record previously. Stab wound - too long to be in-and-out - what knife? _

Mac looked at his notes once more, reading through them, trying to remember what he had wanted to add. Something from Hawkes…. And when was the trace going to get back to him? He expected it two days before, and it still hadn't come close to him…. He tapped his pen against the pad, fingers hard against his temples when he heard a knock.

Sheldon Hawkes stood at the door, entering with a smile only after Mac waved him in. He held out a clear Petri dish. Mac glanced at it.

"Nice to see you out of the morgue." Mac glanced at Hawkes' face, but he only grinned.

"Remember the cat hair I found on the vic?" Mac remembered it, and told himself to write it down. That's what he had forgotten - long, white cat fur on the vic, but no cat to her name. "I looked deeper into some of the cuts and found this." He put the container down, showing Mac a white nail from a cat, still intact and clear. The edge looked as though it had started to peel into two. "Looks like some house cat got to her pretty good before the killer got her. And the tearing look close to the same age -"

"I've got it, Hawkes," Mac told him, smiling. "Could you take that down to evidence?"

Hawkes nodded. "Sure thing. Also - happy birthday, Mac."

Mac closed his eyes and put his hand back to his head, seeing how much pressure it took to crack open a skull. "Thank you," he answered blandly.

As Hawkes walked out, Aiden walked up to his door. She grinned at Hawkes before letting herself in.

"Hey," she said to him. Mac stared her down. "I was wondering if we could move the line up for DNA testing - we can't go any further with Beau Baldacci without figuring out whose hair it was."

Mac nodded. "I'll let them know once I finish writing this. That all?"

Aiden nodded. "Happy birthday, too."

"Thanks," he muttered. Aiden left the office, and Mac was annoyed to see Danny come in with Flack.

"Bad news, Mac," Danny told him uneasily. "I think we're out of tape for pickin' up fibers -"

"There's no such thing as running out of tape," Mac told him. "Have you asked anyone where the extra could be?"

"I couldn't find anyo-"

"Go tell Rachel over in toxicology. She'll show you the closet."

Flack elbowed Danny. "I tol' you to ask her! She's always around, so of course she'd know where it is!"

"You never said to," Danny snapped back. "Oh, Mac, happ-"

"If I hear you wish me a happy birthday," Mac said over him, "I'll make sure _you_" - he pointed at Flack - "never get to come into this lab again and _you" _- he pointed at Danny - "are fired."

Danny stared at him, then glanced at Flack, who looked equally confused. "Alright, boss. Have a good day, then, I suppose."

"Have a good day," Flack echoed as they left the office.

Mac almost got the pen to his paper to make a note about the cat hair when Stella entered. "Why's everyone coming here?" she asked, glancing after Flack and Danny. "Are you signing autographs?"

Glancing up, Mac gave her a stern look that Stella just grinned off. "Don't be angry, Mac. I just came in here to ask you to meet me in the break room to talk. Why're you so angry?"

"Everyone," he told her, stressing the word, "has been coming in here, telling me things and leaving with a 'happy birthday, Mac'. All I _want_ to do is finish writing this." He gritted his teeth together. "Can't I work in peace today?"

"But birthdays are a great thing." Stella crossed her arms. "What's bugging you now? Bad birthday?"

"I've spent half my day musing over how much of my life I've wasted," Mac told her with a straight face. "I just realized that I'm close to fifty, and I'm a widow who's spending his time in this office, trying to write down a note but being interrupted by my new employees."

"Really?"

"No, I made that up to please you," Mac answered, leaning back. "And what's worse is that I can't remember what I was trying to write."

"Hawkes was putting a… nail or something into the evidence. Anything to do with that?"

Mac didn't answer, but leaned forward and scribbled another note on the paper before looking up. "Finally."

"Good." Stella walked forward and moved the paper under one of the folders on the side of his desk. "C'mon. You're stuck coming with me."

Mac followed her without arguing, though he stopped to move the paper back to the center of his desk. Stella watched him the entire way as though making sure he didn't venture away from her route. Once they hit the break room - which, Mac noticed, seemed a bit darker than usual - she held the door open for him.

He noticed the cake on the table first. It had flowers on the edges and 'Happy Birthday' written in loopy letters. Then he noticed several of his employees grinning at him, all shouting the one phrase he was starting to hate that morning. Then he noticed Danny and Flack.

"I said it once," he told them, pointing at the door. "Flack! Out of the building! Danny -" He broke off, trying to think. "Danny, just go with him!"

Stella watched as Danny and Flack slipped out the backdoor, wondering why the two seemed to be jogging away rather quickly.

Mac turned to the rest of them. "Everyone, out! I just want to finish working! No more 'happy birthday's until after hours!"

Stella watched everyone else looked a bit offended as they left, then turned to Mac, who looked slightly red. "Well, Birthday Boy. I think you're creating your own misery at this point."

Jim, one of the lab techs entered the room, looking at the leaving crowd in a confused manner. "Mr. Taylor? I have the trace from Warner back. It's skin, so I sent it to DNA, and they tested it. I think you may have the murderer." He handed the folder over to him, then grinned. "Happy birthday, Mr. Taylor."

Mac smiled as he looked at the results. As Jim left, Mac turned to Stella. "There," he told her. "_Now_ we can celebrate."


End file.
